


Flicker

by crisdrafta



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bottom Louis, It's a six of crows au, M/M, Smut, Top Harry, and I'm fairly sure I failed to capture any of these things, basically it's supposed to be a peaky blinders of sorts in a sort of northen fictional country, that's basically what the books are, there's guns involved, there's this scene with corpses i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 00:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crisdrafta/pseuds/crisdrafta
Summary: “I don’t want your prayers, Louis.” He said instead“Then what do you want?”'You, Louis. You' Harry thought“To die and be buried in my own gold.”Louis sighed. “Then I will pray for that as well, Harry.”Or Harry is the leader of Ketterdam's most feared gang. Louis is his Wraith. They must accomplish one impossible heist with a crew of six outcasts.A six of crows AU





	Flicker

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you Cece for being so wonderfully patient with me. I've been crazy busy and this has been the product of writing on the tube and in work breaks. And thank you for organising this and being the loveliest and sticking with my sorry ass.  
> Thank you my lovely Oasis fam, even if I kept this close to my chest, knowing you'd be excited over it regardless really helped me. Thank you Sofia and Andreea, who will probably never read this, but thank you for pushing me to read this series of books.  
> Now, I do not own Six of crows. The main plot ideas are all Leigh Bardugo's. I just stripped it down of some very weird stuff and made it fit Larry. The second chapter will be up within the next few weeks! I have a deadline on Friday and I couldn't finish it in time :(  
> Also, this work is not edited, so I deeply apologise for all the mistakes.

Louis Tomlinson woke up groaning in pain, and being observed by Kaz Brekker. The former was something he got used to. The life is the Barrel was brutal and filthy, running on power and strength. Being part of the Dregs brought enough enemies by default, and the list was ever expanding with the people he managed to piss off by himself. The latter however, was not an usual occurrence. Kaz Brekker did not pay curtesy visits to the wounded. Not even to his precious Wraith.

 

 _Especially to his precious Wraith_ Louis thought bitterly. Yet here he was, at the end of his bed, leaning against the hardwood wall of the boat. His eyes were resting upon Louis’ body, but his gaze was unfocused, looking through him. He didn’t notice that Louis was awake yet, so he used his time to study the man’s face. The bags under his eyes were verging on purple, the only telling of his tiredness. His brows were furrowed slightly, his mouth set in a rigid line. His long curls were still damp and resting on his shoulders, his black shirt sticking to his skin in darker patches, as if he came here straight from the bath.

 

“I see Simon Cowell was trying to kill us on the docks” Louis broke the silence in the room. His voice was scratchy, his throat raw when speaking.

 

Because Louis was looking closely, he saw the way Kaz’s green eyes sparked for a second upon hearing his voice, before the spark faded, replaced with his ever-present wall of nothingness. His mouth morphed into a smirk.

 

“You’ve been awake for a whole 30 seconds Wraith, how the fuck do you know anything?”

 

Louis let off a puff of air.

 

“I’m not your spider for nothing. But it was more or less an educated guess. Must have been one of the Barrel bosses, and the only ones with that sort of power in such a short amount of time are Azoff and Cowell. I find it hard to believe Azoff would sabotage his own team, and we pissed off Cowell one too many times after the shit you pulled last week.”

 

“That’s what he deserved for trying to get into our territory.” Kaz pouted. Honest to God pouted.

 

Louis tried to get up on the, but the pain in his mid-section took his breath and forced him to fall back on the bed. Kaz was by his side in a second. He filled a glass with water and gave it to Louis before sitting on the bed next to him. He drank in small sips, not wanting to risk getting sick.

 

“It’s not just that, Kaz. I’ve noticed how hard you’re going after him.”

 

“He’s just another Barrel boss.” Kaz shrugged.

 

“No.” Louis said quietly. “It’s personal and you know it.”

 

Kaz looked at him with a strange expression. Louis recognized it, it was an expression Kaz wore sometimes when he thought Louis wasn’t looking, caught between a plea and an exasperated despair to catch onto _something_ .As if Louis is missing the point of a very obvious observation.

 

 

 

 

Later, when he would look back at this moment, Kaz would not be able to explain to himself why he said it. He never spoken them to anyone, never spoken them out loud. Maybe it was the fact that he almost lost Louis earlier due to Cowell’s bastards, maybe it was the knowledge  that they might not make it out of this mission alive.

 

“Simon Cowell killed my brother.” Kaz said, his eyes fixed on the sails above Louis’ head. He didn’t have to watch him to sense his shock.

 

“I never knew Kaz Brekker had a brother”

 

“He doesn’t. Didn’t.” Kaz paused. It wasn’t a question of trust. He trusted Louis more than he trusted himself most days. It was the burden that he would put on Louis’ shoulders by letting him past the maze of concrete walls and shadows he built around himself.

 

“Harry Styles had.” He tried to keep his voice as clear as possible. The name sounded foreign on his lips, he hasn’t spoken it out loud for years and it fit weirdly on his tongue.

 

“He had many things. Parents. A younger sister. An older brother.” he continued. Maybe it was the fact that they could die at any seconds. That him, Dirtyhands, prime bastard of the Barrel, could finally run out of his ‘tricks’, as Liam called them. He knew that saving Louis was his personal priority. Not above completing the job, but that was his professional priority. He would get Louis and that girl, Barbara, out and alive of the Ice Court even if he had to kill the entire court and himself in the process. But maybe, just maybe, he wanted someone to remember Harry Styles. To not forget his name. Not just Kaz Brekker, or Dirtyhands, whom people would throw parties and raise glasses in honour of his death, but the boy who should have known better.

 

“Harry?” Louis’ voice was tentative, as if carefully tasting his name before indulging himself. He hesitated for a moment.

 

_Is this why you told him? His pity? Do you want him to hug you? Touch you? Keep you in his arms and make it better?_

“I will pray for his peace in the next world.” Louis said. They sat close to each other, their shoulders almost touching. The close proximity should make Harry’s skin crawl, but instead he thought, _What would happen if I moved closer?_ An unwanted haze of blue eyes fluttering close as he moved faster clouded his mind.

 

“I don’t want your prayers, Louis.” He said instead

 

“Then what do you want?”

 

_You, Louis. You._

“To die and be buried in my own gold.”

 

Louis sighed. “Then I will pray for that as well, Harry.”

 

His name of Louis’ lips made his skin tremble. “More prayers. Careful Lou, you’ll make me feel like a god. Liam is gonna bust a vein if he has to venerate me.”

 

“Liam is gonna bust a vein anyway if we let him and Zayn stay in the same room for more than 2 minutes.”

 

“Shawn said he hasn’t seen this much sexual frustration since before he castrated his cat.”

 

Louis laughed for a second, before it turned into a pained cough.

 

“Don’t make me laugh you fucking dick, it hurts.”

 

“Rest, Louis. We have a big day tomorrow. Thirty million kruge are waiting for us if we get this right.” Harry got up off the bed, wincing when his bad knee protested at the sudden movement.

 

“Kaz, wait.”

 

Louis moved slowly, carefully testing his movements before bending and reaching for something under his bed. He pulled Harry’s cane out, grinning as he handed it back to him.

 

Harry felt his body relaxing as he wrapped his hand around the crow head. It bothered him how much he relied on his cane and his gloves, how lost he got in the part of the myth he built around himself. How easy it felt to play Dirtyhands all the time. He rather enjoyed all the whispers about why he was wearing gloves all the time. His favourite ones were about him selling his hands to the Devil, and getting clawed hands that could pick up any lock. And that his cane was made out of the bones of the demons he killed and trapped their souls into.

 

Louis always had a supply of rumours people spread about Kaz Brekker, and Harry thought he was secretly enjoying and fuelling some of them. He knew that Harry’s hands looked perfectly normal, apart from a small scar he got when he was 5 and one of the goats bit him. He was there with Harry when a Fabrikator reinforced his cane with Grisha steel and tinkered with the colour until it looked like a black abyss that hosted something underneath.

 

Harry was halfway out the door when he suddenly turned back.

 

“What do you want Louis? What are you gonna do with your share?”

 

“I’m gonna leave.” His voice had an edge Harry hadn’t heard before, a purpose. “I’m gonna buy myself a ship and hunt the slave traders that stole me and make them pay. Then I’m gonna hunt all the slave traders until every single one of them will pay for ruining so many lives.”

 

Louis told Harry about this plan before. But this time, Harry actually believed him.

 

 

 

 

In the Barrel, your reputation was the only thing that matter, and everyone knew and feared Kaz Brekker. But everyone needed him as well. Louis was well aware of that. No job was too low for him, nothing too dirty for Dirtyhands. He took the jobs no one wanted, the ones that even the most desperate scums would refuse. He built a reputation based on never failing any job, always delivering. He stole from Wotton, and he dared to poke at Cowell all the time. He crossed Walsh and lived. He feared no one, and was loyal only to himself and the Dregs. But Louis also knew how much he enjoyed just letting the people of Ketterdam making him a bigger monster than he was. Kaz Brekker was a liar and a theif, but he was a honest one. He never made any promises he cannot keep, never sweet talked you into a deal. He always made his terms and conditions clear, the reward, the risks. He never led anyone into a blind job. Louis respected that, even if Kaz didn’t think he deserved any respect.

 

Louis made himself comfortable laying back. He knew this job was going to be different since he saw Kaz’s face when he came back to the Barrel. _Or is it Harry now?_ But to break into the Ice Court, the one place that is impenetrable, and break that scientist girl, Barbara, out of a high security prison? That was a challenge only fools would dare. But Louis knew Harry. If he accepted the job, he knew how to do it. And if that meant having to deal with Liam and Zayn’s constant sexual frustration and moaning, he would take it. Fuck, for 5 millions kruge each he will even help them solve whatever issues they still have.

 

He found out for Harry the reason Zayn was in Ketterdam. In the official records, Zayn was brought as a slave by Liam, reported the incident to a guard that happened to be near the docks when they arrived, and even testified in court against Liam’s plead of innocence. After Liam was sent to Hellgate, Zayn spent almost a year trying to figure out a way to get him out. Sometimes Louis wonders if he should just tell Liam that Zayn charged him with slave trade because he saw a Grisha near the docks, and knew that Hellgate would be better than a Druskelle being captured by a Grisha. Louis never understood the hatred between the two nations. The Ravkans that can manipulate natural elements, Grishas, are consider to be unholy, unnatural by the Fjerdans. They train young males to join a small group of soldiers that hunt and kill Grishas, the Druskelle.

 

For him, Grishas were just people. In the same way a singer trains his voice in order to sing, they train a part of themselves. The same way he trained for hours on the high rope, the way he fell and got up, the way he listened to his mother when she was showing him how to empty his head before going on the wire, how to use the wind and to master the art of falling. Plus, the Druskelle could never take a joke. Or maybe that was just Liam.

 

He sighed, and rolled on his stomach, just as the door open again.

“Go away, I’m dying here.” He groaned into the pillow.

 

“That’s why I’m here, but if you’re gonna be a brat about it, I’m going to leave you to suffer” Zayn said as he plopped into the chair next to Louis’ bed.

 

Louis looked up at his best friend, taking in his troubled face.

 

“Is Liam being a dick again? Do you need me to sneak fish heads under his bed? Shave his head? Again?”

 

Zayn sighed.

 

“No, it’s fine. I just wish he’d stop acting like I have some contagious disease. I thought we were past that point.”

 

“You did get him sent to prison with no explanation Z.”

 

“But I got him out!”

 

“Technically, me and Kaz got him out. You just stayed there and looked guilty for 2 hours.”

 

“Hey, I altered Oli’s appearance for you, and made him look like he has chicken pox.”

 

“Whatever makes you happy, Z.”

 

Zayn actually punched him in the arm for that one.

 

“Ouch, it hurts, you mean brute! How dare you punch the wounded.” Louis winced.

 

“Maybe if the wounded would actually let me treat their wounds, they would feel better.”

 

Louis poked his tongue out, before slowly turning on his back. Zayn put his hands on his chest, slowly moving them up and down. Louis felt the warm and tingly energy pouring from Zayn’s hands as he slowly healed Louis’ ribs. He didn’t know if Grishas have different signatures for their powers, but Zayn’s always felt like a warm, golden sunset descending over his body.

 

“It’s good that you woke up, Lou. Maybe now Kaz will start being rational again. He’s been insufferable.” 

 

“He’s just worried that I won’t be able to climb the evac vent to get us all out.”

 

“Whatever makes you happy, Lou.” Zayn said with a smirk.

 

 

 

 

Harry knew he needed to go to sleep. He watched over Louis for the past two days, he was tired, and he couldn’t afford to be tired tomorrow. He needed his mind sharp, and his knee to behave. He opened a can of worms by telling Louis about his brother today. He knew that if he went to sleep, he would only see his dead body, and the dead body of his parents, his sister. And, if it was a particularly horrible night, Louis’.

 

He couldn’t escape the image of him on the docks. The blow Don managed to take on Louis before Niall shot him down. Louis’ body falling without his usual intent and grace. The blood spilling everywhere. For a second, Harry thought he was dead. He was almost tempted to go back and kill Cowell for that. But Shawn and Niall fished him out of the water, and Zayn said he was gonna be alright, so Cowell could wait for now.

 

He sighed as he got up, taking his gloves from the nightstand. He was wearing some loose trousers Shawn packed for him, and a long sleeved fleece over his shirt, which should shield his skin enough. He walked silently in the small hallway, stopping in front of the last door to take a break. He knock quietly, and waited for a sign Louis was still awake. He waited for the muffled “ _Come in”_ before he entered the room.

 

Louis was a sight, dressed in a fluffy pink robe that probably belonged to one of the girls back home, and curled up under two blankets. He was sipping what looked like hot chocolate from a pale blue mug.

 

“I’m never leaving Shawn in charge of packing again. ” Harry groaned.

 

Louis laughed, and Harry couldn’t stop staring at the little crinkles that formed around his eyes. So bright, so full of life.

 

“Give the boy a rest, he’s used to have 5 servants outside his door at any given time. His essentials are a bit different than ours.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn’t move from his spot.

 

“Now, did you come here just to make conversation about Shawn’s shitty packing skills, or do need anything?”

 

The question was followed by a long pause. Harry tried to open his mouth, but it was impossible. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to do either. Louis eyes him for a second, seeing his struggle to come up with an explanation. His eyes flickered for a second.

 

“Kaz… Harry. Just come here already, don’t stay there like a sad scarecrow.”

 

“Harry is fine, please” he ask, voice filled with a plea he barely understood.

 

Harry was glad Louis was taking it as a joke. He felt on edge, unsure of what to do next. He hasn’t been Harry Styles around someone in almost a decade, it was throwing him off. He walked slowly to the small bed, just as Louis was shuffling closer to the wall. The bed was tiny, but Louis was quite small, so Harry slide in quite comfortably. His left side was completely glued to Louis’ ride one. He took in a deep breath and waited for the nausea to sink in. His skin was covered, but that was almost never enough, this kind of close proximity would make him ill within seconds. He closed his eyes and started to count to ten, waiting for his skin to start crawling, for his stomach to start churning. He got to almost thirty before he realised it wasn’t going to happen. He opened his eyes slowly, before turning slightly to his left. Louis was watching him with curious eyes.

 

“You know, I might have been trained at the menagerie, but I don’t bite.” Louis said, a self-deprecating attempt to break the silence.

 

Harry wanted to laugh, but all it came out was a desperate choke.

 

“Are you okay?” Louis asked, voice serious this time.

 

“Yeah. Yeah. I just. Can I try something?”

 

Louis looked confused, but he nodded anyway. Harry stood up a little, and taking in a deep breath, he took off his gloves. He stared at his hands, pale in the moonlight, almost matching the white bedsheets. He put the gloves on the nightstand, then turned to Louis.

 

 

 

 

Louis knew he was doing a poor job of concealing his surprise. The few times he’s seen Harry without gloves were entirely by accident. A debrief that couldn’t wait till morning. A vital piece of information. Late night changes that caught Harry shirtless, in his tailored trousers, in between Dirtyhands and the 21 years old man with the weight of a city on his shoulders. The low class thief that dressed like the richest merchant just because it was pissing them off, just because it made him _look_ the part.

 

But he’s never seen his skin exposed voluntarily. Not ever in the 5 years he’s been working for him. His face looked even paler his skin, the terror he was feeling giving it a sickly shade. Louis was lost. Harry looked absolutely mortified as his hand slowly hoovered over Louis’. As if the simple idea of contact was making his inside turn on themselves, which Louis couldn’t understand. Harry touching him often. To check if he’s broken any bone. To aid him climb during jobs. He shook hands to close a deal. Yet he’s never seen him in such a petrified state.

 

With one last gulp, Harry closed the space between their hands. It’s a bit anticlimactic for Louis. Harry’s skin was a little warm and a little damp from the gloves, but also smooth and soft, surprisingly so for someone who is used to intense hours of manual labour.

 

“I don’t understand.” Harry muttered, so quietly Louis wasn’t entirely sure he meant to say it out loud. He was looking at their tangled hands with awe and shock, as if he couldn’t quite grasp the concept of touch.  He trailed his hand upwards, under the fluffy sleeve of the robe, pulling the fabric upwards with his touch until the skin was exposed. His eyes watched the movement with wonder, and Louis was lost watching his face. He couldn’t understand why such a mundane gesture was so extraordinarily grandiose for the boy, but his face was so relaxed, so incredibly beautiful that Louis’ heart ached for a moment.

 

As if he was in a trance, Harry stood up a little more, letting Louis’ hand fall back on the bed. He slowly moved his hand towards his face, eyes asking for permission. Louis didn’t think he could speak to save his life, nodding instead to give him permission to touch him.

 

Harry touched his face so gently, so impossibly soft, that Louis had to nudge his head to make sure the touch was real, and not a gentle breeze sneaking into the room. The movement tore a gasp out of Harry’s lips, and then his other hand moved upwards, cupping Louis’ other cheek. Their faces were so close Louis could see the little specks of hazel in Harry’s green eyes, could feel his breath on his lips.

 

He watched Harry’s eyes darken, a wild spark coming alive behind them. He opened his mouth, but Louis knew already what he was gonna ask. Instead of waiting, he pushed himself forward and pressed their lips together. Harry’s lips were just as soft as his hands, if not softer. They were warm and plush, tasting just a little sweet. The kiss was so impossibly soft, so fragile. Louis felt his own heart racing in his ears. It was as if the universe was shaking his to his very core. But it wasn’t him that was shaking. It was Harry.

 

Louis pulled back, but before he had the chance to say something, Harry crashed their lips together once more. This time the kiss was wild, urgent. As if this was their last chance on Earth to be close like this. Harry pulled Louis on top of him, his hands sliding under the robe and finding rest on his waist. He pressed their bodies together, which made both of them gasp, interrupting the kiss. But as soon as their lips parted, Harry moved them down kissing a trail down Louis’ neck. He buried his face in his neck, and hugged Louis so tightly, there was no air left between them.

 

“If the devil game back my body only for a night, I’m glad I got to spend it with you” Harry whispered, voice muffled by Louis’ robe.

 

Louis couldn’t understand what Harry was talking about, but he left his hand find their way to Harry’s nape, pulling softly at his hair. He felt Harry’s soft moan vibrating through his body, before pulling his head back and catching his lips again. He shifted his hips to get a better angle, but in his new position he could feel just how hard Harry was underneath him. He felt himself moaning, his own cock so hard it was painful. He throw off his robe, not caring as it ended up in a bundle in the middle of the room. His mind was screaming _Harry Harry Harry_ as he pulled up the corner of his shirt. Harry’s body was just as mesmerising as the rest of him, his muscles hard and taunt under his soft, pale skin. His body was decorated with multiple tattoos, but Louis’ favourite one have always been the pair of two swallows on his chest. When he was young, he used to carry around a swallow toy, never went anywhere without it. He gave it to a friend he made in a small town, years ago, but his fondness for the bird stayed.

 

Harry slid his hands under Louis’ shirt, pulling it up, revealing the bandage Zayn put in place earlier. Harry froze, hands hovering above Louis’ skin. He tensed seeing the white fabric wrapped around Louis’ body, before Louis pressed his lips to his encouragingly.

 

“I’m fine” he said, nudging Harry with his nose.

 

Harry nodded quietly, before pulling back to look into Louis’ eyes. For the first time since Louis met him, his eyes were void of the darkness that accompanied Dirtyhands everywhere. They were alive, sparkling with lust and wonder, as he took in Louis’ face. He signal Louis to roll over with a twist of his head, mindful of Louis’ soreness around his ribcage.  Louis twisted them over, so his body was held captive on the mattress underneath Harry’s. Harry moved to take off his sleeping trousers, before pulling off his own’s. They were both naked, their bodies tangling together as their kisses became more and more desperate. He felt himself leaking against his stomach, his cock painfully neglected. He tried to move up, to create some friction against Harry’s own leaking member, but Harry pinned his hips down with one hand.

 

“Do you have…” Harry started asking, stuttering a little. Louis nodded his head towards the bag stacked next to the bed. Harry reached over Louis to grab it by its corners and shuffled through it before finding the small vial of oil.

 

“Did you expect to make a leisure trip out of this suicide mission? Or did Shawn think this was Niall’s bag?” he teased Louis. And that. Louis burst into a loud laugh. He expected loads of things out of Harry, but making jokes in bed was certainly none of them.

 

He felt Harry relaxing under his touch, a small smile curling his lips. Louis was so busy being admiring the softness of his face, the absolute opposite of the last time they did this, they only time they’ve done this, that he was surprised by the long finger prodding his entrance.  He moaned, but his moan was caught by Harry’s lips. Their kiss was deep, rushed in the best way. He felt Harry adding another finger at just the right moment, opening him. He wasn’t able to keep still, grinding on Harry’s fingers.

 

“Please, I’m ready” he begged as Harry was nicking at his neck while hitting his prostate just right. He took his fingers our, and Louis groaned at the loss of contact.

 

“Shhh, I got you.” Harry said. He spread some oil on himself, before looking at Louis. “Are you sure you want to do this? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

 

“Yes, please.” Louis nodded. His felt a deep warm feeling going through his body. Even naked and turned, Harry made sure that Louis’  decision was his own. He saved Louis from having the decision taken away from him when he bought out his contract from Walsh, and even the time they were forced into doing it, to validate the purchase, he still made sure Louis gave him his full consent. Louis knew that he would have found a way to get out of Walsh’s contract if Louis said no. But he didn’t want to say no, neither that night, nor in this moment.  

 

Harry didn’t take his eyes off him as he entered him. He was huge, stretching Louis out in the best way, filling him up so good. He couldn’t keep the eye contact, eyes shutting close as Harry pushed all the way through. They both moaned, the heat almost too much to bear. He couldn’t keep silent as Harry started moving, slowly at first, picking up the pace push by push.

 

He felt the heat in his stomach building as Harry thrusted into him faster and faster. His fingers dig into Harry’s back, probably leaving behind red marks. He hooked his legs around Harry’s waist, pushing his hips up to meet his relentless pace. The angle was deeper this way, and a few thrusts later, he came so hard the world turned black for a few seconds. He felt Harry coming too, as he clenched around him, lost in the feeling.

 

He slipped out and curled his body next to Louis, hand draped over . Louis was too spent to do more and turn his head and kiss the tip of Harry’s nose. He shuffled them both, so his head was resting on Harry’s chest, before closing his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

Harry didn’t want to fall asleep. Louis was sound asleep next to him, exhaustion catching up to him. He left out little puffs of air, his eyelashes were fawning over his cheekbones, and Harry couldn’t take his eyes of him. He was scared. He faced Cowell, Walsh, Wotton with a smirk and a shrug of shoulders. He rose his way through the ranks of Ketterdam’s gangs, he was a fearless force of nature, unpredictable and calculated. Yet he laid in darkness of Louis’ room, soul shaking inside his still body. He didn’t want to move, afraid to wake up the sleeping boy beside him. He didn’t knew how and why the saints or devils allowed him to touch Louis tonight, but he knew this couldn’t happen again, no matter how much he wanted to.

 

It wasn’t even the fact that he didn’t deserve Louis, or that his enemies would tear him apart at the first whiff of knowledge that he was the one weakness that Dirtyhands had. He made peace with the fact that there were few things he was worthy of, none of them good or even favourable. And Louis could hold his own against an army well enough. All the people in Harry’s life were taken away from him, in rather painful manners. He lost everyone, and if there was one thing he couldn’t phantom is the knowledge that Louis would be taken away in the same manner. There was a darkness haunting him, a string of unfortunate events that started with his parents’ death. He lost his parents and sister, then him and Nick lost all their money. Then he lost his brother too. And when he crawled his way back from that harbour, he lost Harry Styles too. He lost Louis way before any of that, even if Louis doesn’t seem to remember that fact. Harry understood why. He wasn’t the 10 years old curly-haired-starry-eyed kid anymore. He listened to Louis soft sleeping sounds, a rhythmic pattern of inhales and exhales that Harry got lost into.

 

“I’m scared Lou.” He whispered against the dark. “I’m scared of so many things. Everyone thinks I have no soul, no fears, but sometimes I feel like all I am is fear. I fear for our crows, everyday they’re out on jobs. I fear that one day I’ll push the Council too far, or the barrel bosses, and they’ll cut us off for good. I fear for Niall losing his mind because he doesn’t want to use his Grisha gift. He thinks no one knows, but I think he’s the one who doesn’t know what he’s doing, that he’s more than just a sharp shooter. But most of all I fear for you. I fear that one day the salve masters will show up and somehow take you again. I fear that Walsh will get his claws on you again. I fear that you’ll find out about us, about the first time we met. It was so many years ago, Lou. I was 10 and you were 12 and your family had a show in my village. Your mum was wearing a bright red costume, and your father had a top hat, and you were dressed in gold. I’ll never forget how golden you were, how you were jumping and walking and tumbling on the high rope as if you were immensely bored by it. The first night I watched your show, when you wobbled, I felt like I was there missing a step instead of you. It took me 3 shows to realise it was all part of your act, and even the 4th time, my heart still skipped a beat seeing you almost falling.”

 

“I only had the courage to approach you at the circus fair, and your skin was still powdered with the gold glitter from your show, and you looked like a ray of sunshine contained in human skin. Your family stayed in town a while. I was completely gone for you, as much as a kid can be gone for someone. I was counting the minutes until mum would be done with tending the farm so we could go into town. Used to drive Gemma nuts, me rushing everyone to get ready. Nick would just stay back stroking Dotty and laughing at us. I would go and help Tante Helene with the bakery so she would give me some coins to come and watch your show. I prayed every night you would come and notice me, and when you finally did, I wanted to die of relief and rush to hide under my bed.”

 

“You thought my name was Harold, and I never had the heart to correct you. You were the only one to call me that, and I felt special. You shared your sweet tarts with me, and I took some clotted cream from our kitchen and we ate them on the riverbank. For a few weeks, you were my best friend, the centre of my universe. You were so wickedly funny, so bright, so beautiful.”

 

“And then one day your family just packed their tents and left in a rush. My parents were going into town that day, with Gemma. She had a cough that wouldn’t go away, and they were going to see a doctor. An accident happened on the road, and they died before anyone found them. Everyone said it was the circus caravans that dropped one of the poles that wasn’t packed properly. And because the explanation made sense, and your family wasn’t there to say otherwise, no one bothered to investigate further.”

 

“And saints Lou, I was heartbroken. But then, a few years ago, not long after you joined us, I asked you to steal some documents from Wotton. It was some job Azoff asked me to do, and I couldn’t be bothered to do it myself. When you brought them back, I looked over them, just in case. They weren’t anything exciting, trading deals, money registers. But there was one report of Wotton paying some guards to cover an accident with one of his transporting companies. It was from a few years back, not relevant for what Azoff needed, so I took it off the file. Turns out at that time, Wotton was on the verge of convincing an important merchant to get into a trade agreement with him, and something like that would have blown the deal off. So he paid the guards off to bury it. Who would care about two farmers and their daughter, especially when the ones to blame were a travelling company that wouldn’t even know they did anything wrong. “

 

“Going out and killing Wotton would be too easy. I’m not a fan of letting people out in the easy way. No. I played him like any Merchant in Ketterdam. I never showed any particular interest in him. I robbed his house the same way I would with every other rich bastard. We’ll even do this job for him. And when he gives us our money, that’s when I’m gonna start bringing him down. He killed my family, the same way Cowell killed my brother.”

 

“But I think that most of all, I fear that day as well, when Wotton is gonna give us our money. I fear that this time you’ll actually leave. Will you look back? Will you remember Ketterdam? How will you remember me? Will you ever come back?”

 

Harry’s voice was hoarse by now. He was staring at the dark ceiling, hand softly tracing Louis’ shoulder. He looked at the small body beside him. He felt raw and exposed, more naked than ever before, yet Louis was resting in a peaceful slumber, breath still coming out in small puffs. He always kept his memories of his life before Ketterdam sealed in the furthest corner of his mind. But tonight, he let himself remember the days at the beginning, when he first met Louis. How his light was so bright, it radiated off him. How even now, years later, after being captured by slave traders, sold into the Menagerie, used by so many people to gain profit, Walsh, Azoff, he still had that fiery determination inside him. He refused to let go of his faith.

 

And Harry felt his heart ache looking at him, seeing how his soul remains unbroken, while he lost his soul along the way. He turned their bodies around, so he would hold Louis in his arms. Before sleep took him, he thought that deep in his heart, he feared that the last spark of Harry Styles would go away when Louis would leave, leaving only Kaz Brekker behind.  

 

 

 

 

Harry was pleased to see that Liam was proving himself useful for once. When they arrived near the Fjerdan coastline, he took over navigating the ship through the icy waters with a confidence only a Fjderdan could muster. Harry had Steve draw up some pretty impressive fake papers for them, and they quietly docked in a fishing harbour, next to a small village, the closest they could get to the Ice Court itself. Their papers were above average, but could only get them so far. The security level for the Ice Court would be increased due to the celebration of the spring Equinix. Fjerdan people were incredibly in touch with the nature, and the time when night and day are equal for one day was celebrated with a big fanfare throughout the country. The Ice Court held the most spectacular party, where all the politicians, rich members of society and merchants were invited. The king and queen themselves were hosting the event, and the night ended with a new group of Druskelle students being accepted into the ranks.

 

Liam didn’t bother to hide the fact that he should have been there that night, a young warrior waiting for his mission to begin. Instead he was going to rob the palace of its most valuable prisoner, probably fight against his friends and comrades, possibly blow up a few things along the way. He was clearly conflicted, knowing he would be seen as a deserter if he went straight to his old masters, without a good explanation of what happened. If they would find out he spent his missing time in prison, and that because of a Grisha, they would imprison him themselves. If he betrayed Harry and the crows, he would go back to Hellgate. Harry was sort of feeling bad for the poor boy. He was raised in a society with deep misconceptions about the Grishas, bred and trained to hunt and kill them. And he ended up saved by a Grisha, whom he fell for. They could both deny it until their last breath, and they probably would, but anyone could see it. The glances. The tension. The way his body moved subtly when Zayn was moving around. Harry wondered if he was as obvious.

 

He woke up that morning with Louis in his arms. The sun shining outside, reflecting the blinding white of the coastline. And where it touch Louis skin, it was as if the rays were directly sinking into it, the same gold shade colouring them both. He considered sneaking out for a second, but he didn’t want Louis to doubt himself. He knew the Menagerie left scars on Louis, more than the tattoo he already covered. So instead, he pressed a soft kiss to Louis’ cheek. Life in the Barrel made everyone a light sleeper, and Louis rested enough that his sleep wasn’t the deep slumber he fell into the previous night. His body tensed immediately, before relaxing again once he realised where he was. He turned around to face Harry, eyes still heavy with sleep.

 

“I have to admit, I’m surprised you didn’t sneak out.”. His voice was even raspier than usual, soft and lovely.  In another universe, Harry would give anything to make sure he wakes up next to Louis every morning.

 

“I considered it,” Harry admits “but you deserve better than that.”

 

“Is this the part where you tell me last night was a mistake, it will never happen again, you’re not even attracted to me, and I deserve more? Because I’m honestly not sure you remember, since you were too out of it last time, but you said this before”.

 

Harry cringes slightly. He recalls the speech he gave Louis after their first night together. Walsh said that even if he bought out Louis’ indenture, he still technically won the bid for his virginity. And the contract would be void if he didn’t take it, thus making him look bad in front of future clients. _I always uphold my end of the bargain._ Walsh told him in a sweet voice. He knew it was bullshit, but he was desperate to get Louis out of there, so he agreed, only if Louis would consent to it. But he knew he couldn’t get through the entire thing sober. He went out and got spectacularly drunk, stumbling into the private room of the menagerie. He felt so out of touch with his body, just as he wanted, but he could never forget anything that happened that night. Even in his intoxication, he tried his best to be as gentle as he could to Louis. His demons were not his fault, he didn’t deserve this. But he couldn’t give him more either. Affecting in the Barrel meant weakness, and Louis would be even weaker because he was a rookie. So he made sure Louis didn’t cling to any hope regarding him. He justified it to himself as punishment for Louis’ family being involved in the accident that killed his parents. A broken heart for a broken heart. Louis hated him for it, he saw it in his eyes. It dulled as months passed by, but the resentment was still there. The thought always sat bitter in Harry’s mind. When he found out the truth about his parent’s death, it was even worse. He went to Louis and apologised in the weeks after. Kaz Brekker never apologised for anything. He stole, he killed, he did dirty jobs without an ounce of guilt. But he couldn’t stand that anymore.

 

“No. You know I’m sorry for how I behaved that time. And if you don’t know by now the depth of my feelings for you, I should probably find myself a new Wraith. But Louis, you must know this is not the appropriate time to discuss this. We’re on our way to a mission we might not even survive. Last night was not supposed to happen. It wasn’t a mistake, but it was not the right thing either. I don’t regret it, I could never regret having you if only for a night, but I regret the circumstances.”

 

“Haz, we’ve had years in Ketterdam.”

 

Harry sighed. He knew Louis was right. But he couldn’t explain it to Louis without revealing all his secrets, and he didn’t want to burden him with then.

 

“How about we make a deal?” Harry asked

 

Louis groaned. “Are you kidding me?”

 

“Let me finish. We focus on the mission. We break out Barbara, and we get back to Ketterdam, and then we’ll talk about this. I’ll be honest about anything you ask me, but let’s just not do this when there’s a high possibility we could die tomorrow.”

 

Louis was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.

 

“You’re right. But just so we’re clear. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for a while. And I won’t stand you dying before we can go back to Ketterdam and you can say it back. Now you have a reason to actually try tomorrow, not just ship us out whatever the costs. If you think you deserve hell now for whatever reasons you have, wait until my ghost will find your ghost in the afterworld if you die on me tomorrow. I will show you hell.”

 

With that being said, Louis pressed a loud kiss to Harry’s lips and jumped out of bed and into the small ensuit.

 

Back on deck, Harry leaned back, chuckling.

 

“I’m really curious about what made you laugh on a day like today.” Zayn asked, propping himself next to Harry.

 

“Nothing”

 

Zayn didn’t comment, just started at him for a few seconds.

 

“Fine, if we die before I find out what made Kaz Brekker laugh, my ghost will hire Niall’s ghost to shoot you. Or Shawn’s to teach me how to play flute so I can annoy the shit out of you.”

 

“Oi” Niall said, emerging from below deck with Shawn and Liam in tow. “Then my ghost would hire Liam’s ghost to protect me from all of you.”

 

“My ghost would not associate with your ghosts” Liam said flatly, which made Niall laugh so hard he almost knocked down Shawn.

 

“Don’t worry, my ghost already promised H..az’s an eternity of misery, I got all of you covered.” Louis laughed jumping down from where he was sitting on the mast.

 

“Okay, enough with the jokes, let’s go over the plan once again.” Harry said, pouting against their joined effort to mock him.

 

“The prisoners’ wagon is the only thing going into the Ice Court unchecked. They don’t look for papers, just for number of bodies. Liam, you, Zayn and Niall will block the road. The wagon will pass through the forest outside this village mid-morning, if Liam’s information is to be reliable”  
  
“It is” Liam grumbled quietly.

 

“I’m not saying it isn’t Payne, I’m just saying they might have changed their routine since you left them.” Harry dismissed him.

 

“Now, Shawn, you will be on the lookout for stray guards that might come and check the prisoners. Any of them come near the back, you find a way to distract them. I don’t care how, just keep them away. Me and Louis will take care of opening the door.”

 

“It’s impossible” Liam said, for the millionth time. “You can’t lockpick that lock Brekker, no one can. And even if you do, you can’t lock it from inside.“

 

“Payne, I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself. I’ve handled that type of locks before. Now shut up.” Harry was starting to lose his patience.

 

“You come and join us as soon as you are able to. We get rid of 6 prisoners that look about our height and weight. We get inside, and then we sit back and relax until we get to the Ice Court.”

 

“Easy peasy” Niall snorted.

 

“If we get this right, we’re gonna be in and out before the Fjerdans even know their prize is missing. If the shifts are still as Liam knows them, the guards will only pass through the cells three times a day for the head count. Once we’re out of the cells, we should have at least 6 hours to get into the Palace, find Barbara, and get off the White Island before they even notice anyone is missing.”

 

“What about the other prisoners in the cells?” asked Liam.

 

“We’ve got that covered.”

 

“Once we’re out of the cells, Liam and Niall will secure the rope from the stables, while the rest of us head straight to the basement, to the laundry room. That’s where the incinerator is. While Louis is doing his climb, me and Shawn will go through the baskets to see if we can find our clothes or anything for cover. And just in case the Fjerdans want to do us a solid and stash Barbara in the actual prison, Niall, Zayn and Liam will search the top level.

 

“Zayn and Liam?” Niall asked. “Far be it from me to doubt anyone’s professionalism, but is that really the ideal pairing?”

 

“Liam knows the prison, and Zayn can take down any guards without a noisy fight. Your job is to keep them from killing each other, or start fucking while we’re on a timer”

 

At that, both Zayn and Liam started protesting.

 

“Shut up the both of you, we can all tell. And while we’re at it, Zayn, please do everyone a solid and tell Liam the reason why you threw him in jail, I’m frankly very tired of your shit.”

 

“Kaz!”

 

“Wait, what do you mean he threw him in jail”

 

“Brekker!”

 

Harry raised a brow, unimpressed. Zayn sighed, but turned to Liam.

 

“That day, on the docks, I saw some Grisha. I knew them from back home, they were with the Small Army. If they would have seen us, they would have taken you prisoner, or kill you before I had the chance to explain what was happening. And even then, you’re a Druskelle. Your kind is never nice to us, to put it mildly. Even if I told them you weren’t holding me prisoner, they would have still had their fun with you. I thought I picked the lesser evil. I didn’t know they were gonna send you to Hellgate, I thought you’d stay for a few days in a cell and I’d find a way to break you out.”

 

Liam’s face was unreadable. Before he had the chance to do anything, Harry continued as if he was never interrupted.

 

“The rest of the prison is not like the holding area. We’re can’t risk anyone sounding an alarm. We’re out of the cells right after six, and up the incinerator and on the roof by eight. The bell tower is close enough that we should have no problem keeping track of the time. We cross the roof and get access into the White Island from there. The guards on the other side will think we already got our papers scrutinised at the check point. Louis, Zayn, Liam and I will borrow some uniforms from the guards and we locate our dear friend Barbara. We get her changed into something more appropriate, and if we have time, Zayn tailors her appearance as best as we can.”

 

“So what I’m getting from this is that I’m stuck with Shawn.” Niall said.

 

“Unless you’ve suddenly acquired an encyclopedic knowledge of the White Island, the ability to pick locks, scale unscalable walls, or flirt confidential information out of high level officials, yes. Besides, I want two sets of hands making bombs.”

 

“Wait, you said we won’t be blowing up anything” Liam frowned.

 

“If all goes well, we walk out. That’s the beauty of all of this. Remember what I said about guiding the mark’s attention? At the embassy gate, all eyes will be focused on guests coming into the Ice Court. People leaving aren’t a security risk.”

 

“Then why the bombs?” asked Shawn.

 

“Precautions. There are seven miles of road between the Ice Court and the harbour. If someone notices that Barbara is gone, we’re gonna have to cover that fast. There’s only one access route, both ways, and that’s through the gate and on the bridge. We blow up the bridge, no one can follow.”

 

Liam put his head in his hands, imagining the havoc they were about the wreak on his country’s beautiful capital.

 

“It’s one prisoner, Payne,” said Harry.

 

“And a bridge,” Shawn put in helpfully.

 

“And anything we have to blow up in between,” added Niall.

 

“Everyone shut up,” Liam growled.

 

Niall shrugged. “Fjerdans.”

 

“I don’t like any of this,” said Zayn.

 

Harry raised a brow. “Well, at least you and Payne found something to agree on.”

 

 

 

Louis was on edge because of how well the plan went. They cut down two trees that blocked the road, the guards grouped to clean them quickly. One of them thought of checking the back, but Shawn scared a few foxes that made a lot of noise, which the guard dutifully ran to check. By the time he came back, they handled the lock, took out 6 of the prisoners and left them passed out in an alcove in the woods. An unexpected surprise was the fact that they all wore bags on their heads, which made it even easier to replace them. A not so pleasant surprise was the fact that they were tied to roof of the wagon by their hands. Louis tied everyone quickly, leaving himself for last. Growing up in a circus company, he was handy with ropes. The guards pulled at the door, but the hinges Harry put in place held. Someone shouted in Fjerdan outside the door, and the wagon surged forward.

 

He took his place beside Harry. He shoved a hood over his head, and another one over his own. Harry’s arm pressed against his from shoulder to elbow, as he locked himself up. The other bodies in the wagon shifted against his side, crowding him against Harry.

 

For now, they were safe. But despite the slow lull of the wagon’s wheels, Louis could tell Harry’s breathing had got worse, coming out in shallow, rapid pants like an animal caught in a trap. It was a sound he never expected to hear from him.

 

It was because he was listening so closely that he knew the exact moment when Harry, Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.

 

 

 

 

After their parent’s death, Harry and Nick took what savings their parents had, and moved to Ketterdam. They had enough money to rent a small, but fairly decent room. They could have lasted for a while with them if they were smart, but Nick was determined to find a job and don’t let the situation get too dire. Harry was barely 10, scared and missing his family, so he held his brother’s hand tightly the entire time.

 

“What’s gonna happen next?” he asked Nick when they settled into the room.

 

“I’ll get a job as a runner at the Exchange, then a clerk. I’ll become a stockholder and then a proper merchant, and then I’ll make my fortune.”

 

“What about me?”

 

“You will go to school.”

 

“Why won’t you go to school?”

 

Nick had scoffed. “I’m too old for school. Too smart.”

 

The first few days were great. They walked hand in hand across the streets, not venturing too far South, in the Barrel, where they knew it was dangerous. They tried cheap food, that was tasty and new. Every day Nick went to the Exchange in hope he would get a job. He left Harry home, saying that Ketterdam was no place for kids to roam around. So Harry stayed inside. He would try to imitate in the mirror the magician that was doing tricks outside their window.

 

The night when everything started to fell apart, Nick came home upset. “They say they have no jobs, but they mean they have no jobs for a boy like me. Everyone there is someone’s cousin or brother or best friend’s son.”

 

Harry tried to cheer him up by suggesting going to the Bazaar. In the years after, Harry would always wonder what might have happened if Nick hadn’t indulged him, if they’d gone to the harbour to look at boats instead, or if they’d simply been walking on the other side of the canal. He wanted to believe that might have made the difference, but the older he got, the more he doubted it would have mattered at all.

 

They were passing the Ketterdam Library when Harry saw a boy selling mechanical toys. He clapped excited, and with an encouraging nod from the boy, he tried to get all the dogs to move at the same time. Nick struck a conversation with him, and it turned out he was from a town close to the one Harry and Nick were from. He knew a man who was looking for runners, not at the Exchange, but at a private office just across. When they went home that night, Nick claimed that their luck was changing. The boy’s name was Xander, and he worked for Mister Hertzoon, a small private merchant who owned a pub near the exchange. Mr Hertzoon hired Nick, and he worked as a runner, carrying messages to and from the docks, and occasionally placing orders in his name. While Nick was at work, Harry was allowed to stay at the pub, and the man behind bar would let him practice magic tricks and gave him hot food and chocolate. The chef even let him in the kitchen, teaching him how to bake cookies and puffy pastries.

 

Once a week, they were invited to Mr Hertzoon’s house to dine with him and his family. His wife was lovely, pinching Harry’s cheeks and giving him crisp, fresh bread. He would play in the kitchen with their daughter, Zamala.

 

Things got even better when Mr Hertzoon’s friend returned from Ravka. He was the captain of a Ketterdam merchant ship, and it seemed he had a few pints with a sugar farmer in a port. The farmer had been angry, moaning about how his and his neighbours’ cane fields had been flooded. Right now sugar prices were low, but when people found out how hard it would be to get sugar in the coming months, prices would soar. Mr Hertzoon’s friend intended to buy up all the sugar he could before the news reached Ketterdam.

 

“That seems like cheating,” Harry had whispered to Nick.

 

“It isn’t cheating,” Nick snorted. “It’s just good business.”

 

Mister Hertzoon had Nick and Xander place the orders with three separate offices to make sure such a large purchase didn’t garner unwanted attention. News of the failed crop came in, and sitting in the pub, the boys had watched the prices on the chalkboard rise, trying to contain their glee. When Mr Hertzoon thought the shares had gone as high as they could go, he sent Nick and Xander to sell out and collect. They’d returned to the pub, and Mr Hertzoon had handed both of them their profits straight from his safe.

 

Only a few days later, Mr Hertzoon told them of another tip he’d received from his friend the captain, who’d had similar word on the next crop of cotton. “This is going to be big money, and I intend to go in heavy.”

 

“Then we should, too,” said Xander.

 

Mr Hertzoon had frowned. “I’m afraid this isn’t a deal for you, boys. The minimum investment is far too high for either of you. But there will be more trades in the future.”

 

Both Nick and Xander were furiour. Xander got angry, and started to call Mr Hertzoon names that made Harry blush. He stormed out of the office, and Mr Hertzoon slouched down in his chair.

 

Harry and Nick stood there frozen, unsure what to do.

 

“Don’t worry boys, I’m not angry with you. I understand why he’s upset. But you need real money to invest in this.”

 

“We have money.”

 

“And I expect it’s all you and Harry have to live on. That’s not something to be risked on a trade, no matter how certain the outcome. Kids your age has no business in this.”

 

“I’m not a kid. If it’s a good opportunity, I want to take it.”

 

Harry would always remember that moment, when he’d seen greed take hold of his brother. Because of his age, Jordie would loan Mister Hertzoon the money, and Mister Hertzoon would place the trade. Mr Hertzoon insisted on escorting them home, and Nick placed the thick stack of money in his hands.

 

The next week, they went to the pub, but it was empty. The windows were dark, the door was locked and bolted. They ran to Mr Hertzoon’s house, but no one answered the door. They knocked on the neighbour’s door, but their maid said the Hertzoon family hasn’t lived there in years.

 

They ran out of money shorty, but that wasn’t what worried them most. An outbreak of typhoid fever reached the city, and Nick woke up with fever one morning. They were sleeping under a bridge, and had no money to pay for medicine or a doctor. Harry’s fever came down two days after Nick’s, and they huddled down as best as they could.

 

When the fever reached full heat, he dreamed of Louis, and that he would come back with his mum and dad and Gemma and it would all be a bad dream in a summer afternoon. When he woke, Nick was staring at the sky. “Don’t leave me.” Harry wanted to say, but he was too tired. He thought he was dreaming when the bodymen rolled him onto the sickboat. He felt himself falling, and then he was caught in a tangle of bodies. He tried to scream, but he was too weak. When they tumbled him into the shallows of the Reaper’s Barge, he somehow found the strength to cry out.

 

“I’m alive,” he shouted, as loud as he could. But he was so small, and the boat was already drifting back to harbour.

 

He tried to pull Nick out from the water, but he couldn’t. His body was too weak, too small. He closed his eyes and waited for the fever to take him away. He expected to wake up along his family, but instead he woke up surrounded by cold bodies, spent with fever. His vision had cleared, and the rash had receded. His fever had broken. He’d forgotten his hunger, but he was thirsty enough that he thought he would go mad.

 

He waited a day and a night, hoping the sickboat would return. They had to come back and set fire to the sick bodies, but when? He was weak and dehydrated. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He had survived the fever, but he might well die out here on the Reaper’s Barge. And in the city, only hunger and dark alleys would wait for him. But there was also vengeance was waiting, vengeance for Nick and maybe for himself, too. So he forced himself to use Nick’s body to help himself float to the shore. He’d heard there were sharks in these waters, but he knew they wouldn’t touch him. He was a monster now, too. When he got to the shore, he used all his strength to pull Nick’s body with him. He thought about digging a hole to bury Nick, but the body had to be burnt so the virus would be destroyed. So he left him there, for the bodyman to collect it. He tried his best to make a cross out of seaweed gathered on the shore.

 

The swim back from the Reaper’s Barge had been the birth of Kaz Brekker. The child he’d been had died of fever. It had burned away every gentle thing inside him. It was easy to survive once he left decency behind. He found smaller targets, and took away all they had. He thought himself how to deal cards, how to steal the most effectively. He kicked one of the Barrel boys down, knowing he was the only one with a job he could take over. He slashed the soles of his feet with a broken bottle. The cut was clean, would not infect, and the boy would recover, but for now he couldn’t work. But when Harry touched the bare skin of the boy, he had been filled with repulsion. He kept seeing the bodies on the Reaper’s Barge, feeling the clampy and cold skin of Nick’s body. He swallowed down, and moved on. He got himself the job, and worked his way up through the Barrel. He found out the con Hertzoon pulled on them was a common one. The cruelest discovery was his gift for cards. He could have made him and Nick rich. He mastered each game in hours, and then he was unbeatable. If there was something he couldn’t recall about the game, he would cheat his way out. He never lost his love for tricks, and a good magician wasn’t much different from a proper thief.

 

One day, he was making his way through the crowd on the Bazaar, when he saw him. He was wearing a velvet jacket and stripped trousers. He entered a tailor’s shop. He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the nausea stirring in his belly from the skin contact.

 

“Shop’s closed” a burly man stopped him.

 

“I can see it’s open, I can see the tailor inside.”

 

“You’ll have to wait kid.”

 

“I just need to see Mr Hertzoon.”

 

“Who?”

 

Harry pointed the man inside. The man laughed. “That’s Simon Cowell kid. Want to get anywhere in the Barrel, better know his name next time.”

 

He knew that name. Everyone knew that name. He just never met the Barrel’s biggest boss before. That night he went to the Slat and joined Azoff and his crows. He didn’t care much for the old man, he knew the Dregs would become his army. He cleaned up the Slat, made it a homebase where the crows would always find a warm meal and a bed. He stole and gave his tears and blood to opening the Fifth Harbour. He recruited all the boys the other gangs rejected, he worked them to the bone putting the old pub on its feet. Azoff let him invest his own money in it in exchange for a 40% profit. No one knew who he was, or where he came from. He gave himself a new name, and bought himself a pair of Fabrikator made gloves. And he waited for the day Simon Cowell would make a mistake.

 

 

 

In the prison wagon, Harry woke to a sharp jab against his thigh. He was ice cold and in darkness. There were bodies all around him, pressing against his back, his sides. He was drowning in corpses.

 

“Harry.” A whisper.

 

He shuddered.

 

Another jab to his thigh.

 

“Harry.” Louis’ voice. He managed a deep breath through his mouth. He felt him pull away from him. Somehow, in the cramped confines of the wagon, he managed to give him space. His heart was pounding.

 

“Keep talking,” he rasped.

 

“What?”

 

“Just keep talking.”

 

“We’re passing through the prison gate. We made it past the first two checkpoints.”

 

That brought him fully to his senses. They’d gone through two checkpoints. That meant they’d been counted. Someone had opened that door, not once but twice, maybe even laid hands on him, and he hadn’t woken. He could have been robbed, killed. Behind him he could hear the other prisoners talking. He was thankful for the whispers. He hoped that the rest of the crows, hooded and burdened by their own anxiety, hadn’t noticed anything strange about his behaviour. He’d been sluggish, slow to react when they’d ambushed the wagon.

 

But he hated that Louis seeing him this way, but on the heels of that thought came another: Better it should be him. He knew he would never speak of it, that he would never use this knowledge against him. Louis would never betray him. He trusted him with his life countess times, but it felt much more frightening to trust him with this shame.

 

 

 

As Louis was climbing the incinerator vent, he understood why Harry wore his gloves all the time. They were a gorgeous pair, Grisha made, soft, but keeping his hands dry. They had tiny slits at the fingertips, allowing the owner to touch things without actually touching them. His hands should have been blistered by now, even in its inactive status, the walls of the incinerator were still warm, but the gloves were keeping them safe.

 

Before he even set foot on the wire, his mother taught him how to fall. How to minimise the impact, how to avoid any major damage. The first time he had to use that knowledge in Ketterdam, he was running away from Cowell’s gang. It was Barrel boss quite badly . They were shooting at them, and he had to let himself fall from the open position on the rooftop. He landed next to a stack of crates, and he didn’t even had time to check for wounds or broken bones, he stood up and started running towards them. He tried to push himself on the roof of the first crate, but his body was sore and he couldn’t muster the energy. He was pretty sure they’ve shot him in the stomach.

 

_Climb, Louis. Always keep your head up and follow what you can’t see._

“I can’t, Mum. I can’t” he whispered. Even thousands of miles apart, he hated to disappoint her. He managed to stumble on top of the crate, but he could feel a body trying to do the same. They grabbed his ankle, and his hand automatically fled to his knife. The blade was sharp and small, and better than whatever torture Cowell would come up with to punish him and the Crows for nagging him.

 

“Not just yet, Wraith.”

 

Harry climbed the crate and bundled Louis into his arms. He frowned looking downwards, but suck in a breath and jumped, landing on his bad knee. It wobbled for a few seconds, and Louis moaned at the impact.

 

“Did we win?”

 

“Well I’m here, so draw your own conclusions.”

 

Louis thought they must’ve been running. His body jounced painfully against his chest with every lurching step. He needed his cane.

 

“I don’t want to die.” He whispered, closing his eyes.

 

“I’ll do my best to make other arrangements for you. But you have to keep talking to me, Louis. Don’t you dare slip away from me now.”

 

“But it’s what you pay me to do.”

 

“You came back for me.”

 

“I protect my investments.”

 

 _Investments_. “I’m glad I’m bleeding all over your shirt.”

 

“I’ll put it on your tab.”

 

As he was climbing the incinerator, he wondered if Harry would catch him if he fell. The weight of the rope around his body was grounding in a way. He didn’t mind it, he suffered worse, but he knew he had to be quick, otherwise his body would exhaust too quickly. His cheeks were wet with sweat and tears from the climb.

 

He thought of his family. Of how he will use his money to track them down. He doesn’t know yet if he’ll have the courage to approach them. Too much has changed, he’s no longer the little acrobat that was spinning on the wire and the swings. He was a spider now, a ghost. But he missed them with all his heart, every day. It hurt so much. He wanted to see if Lottie was still wearing pink ribbons in her hair. If Felicite learned to read. To see the twins walk. They must be so big now, around his age when he was kidnapped.

 

He was taken by slave traders on a sunny afternoon. They came without warning. One moment he was walking down the river bank, the next someone grabbed him and thrown him into a wagon. He cried and begged and asked for his mum, but it was useless. After a while, he fell asleep, and he woke up with a kick to his gut. Slave trades did not care about age, gender or race. He was healthy, able to walk and talk, no disabilities. They kept him around for fun, while they got rid of other kids as they raided more and more cities. Some were kept for longer periods, as the traders analysed the value of the deal people would offer for them. Louis was their golden egg, a young and pretty boy, who had abilities far beyond the simple and dull farm boys and girls that were the main crop. They paraded him town after town, village after village, in front of old merchants, low level nobles, and handsome rich traders. The last ones were the worst, touching Louis’ face, making him spin around, their intentions written clear on their faces. But the traders never accepted a deal. Louis let himself hope little by little. He stopped crying long before. The more he cried, the more they would punch and push him around. Maybe if they could find him no master, he could go back to his family. At that point, he’s been missing for a few years, not even sure where he was.

 

 

Everything went to dust when they boarded him on a big trade ship to Ketterdam. He hasn’t tried escaping before. He had no idea where he was, or how he will manage to get away on the vast road. But this time it was different. He knew where they were headed, and it would be easy to get lost in the city. So he waited until they reached their destination. He got himself free of his chain, a handy trick he’s been helping his father practice, and when they took all the kids out, he made a run for it.

 

He got of the ship and ran into a man dressed in fine silks. His clothes were colourful and felt expensive to touch, soft, and beautiful. Louis cried in relief. Surely, a rich merchant would help him. Ketterdam was famous for his official anti-slavery laws. Of course, the was a blooming slave economy in the city, but the law was still in place. And merchants tented to be lawful in public.

 

“Please sir, you have to help me. I’ve been taken by slave trades, I just want to go back to my family, sir. Please.” Louis begged.

 

The man studied him for a few seconds.

 

“I have to admit Russel, this one truly is a feisty one.”

 

Louis’ face drained of colour. The man addressed the slave trader by his first name, something he never witnessed a client do. Russel was panting, having just run to catch Louis.

 

“I told you, Walsh. He’d be a perfect little pet for your Menagerie.”

 

“So pretty. Such beautiful eyes. And look at his skin! Golden. You’re gonna be very valuable to me little lynx.”  

 

So Walsh took him into the Menagerie. He tried to be strong during the day, enduring lessons in how to please clients, how to manipulate information out of them through sweettalk and gentles caresses. Walsh preened with joy when he discovered Louis was a virgin. He planned an auction for it. He cried at night, but Walsh told him he’d add all the pillows he ruins with his tears to his debt. So he stopped crying.

 

Louis would often think about what his family was doing. Were they looking for him? Did they think he was dead? If he hadn’t been so careless that day, if he paid a little more attention. He was too overjoyed that he was going to meet his friend. His mum gave him puffy apple pastries that day, and he remember feeling so excited to share them with Harry, because apple pastries were his favourites.

 

And in that moment, high up on an incinerator vent in the Ice Court, a few pushes away from the rooftop, in the middle of the craziest mission they’ve ever done, Louis’ foot slipped. He quickly caught onto the bricks, no damage done beyond a few scratches on his fingers. But he froze, breath caught in his lungs. He used to know a Harry Styles. A curly headed kid, with green eyes and dimples. A sweet kid, a kind kid who would share his sweet and his time with him. A kid with a lovely family, a kid with a brother he adored, and a sister sweeter than honey. A kid he loved the way you love other kids at the ripe age of 13.

 

Louis finished his climb, secured the rope and threw it down. He had a few minutes to think about what he just realised, and find a way to make everyone who killed the sweet soul of his first love pay.

 

 

 

 _At least she’s useful._ Harry thought as Barbara was blowing up the bridge behind them. When they got to her, he expected reluctance. To be honest, he didn’t expect a twenty years old brunette who lectured them on why it took so long for someone to come after her. Niall started laughing. Liam was appalled. Zayn fist bumped her. Now her and Shawn were detonating the compounds they mixed together. The guards were running, some even got time to rush to the stables and get horses, but it was all in vain. The main gate, tall and imposing, impenetrable from outside, designed to seal the Court in times of need, did its job very well. And that was in their advantage, as the door sealed the guards behind them. They managed to damage only a small portion of the bridge. Small enough that it wasn’t beyond repair, but large enough that it would take days until they could cross the gap that was not made in the bridge. Harry was quite impressed.

 

Beyond the fact that he was went to his bones, and freezing in the icy air, his leg was splintering all over again, and a raging headache was starting to crawl behind his temples, they were alive. More or less unscratched. He had to cut down a sacred tree to slow the guards who noticed Liam, and alerted the Druskelle general that the deserter was amongst them. Of all the things he thought would go wrong, the Fjerdans actually having a good facial memory was not one of them, otherwise Liam would have stayed in Hellgate. Or maybe not, they needed Zayn after all. But he would have left him home.

 

Once they made it back to their boat, Harry allowed himself to breathe. She left Karlie in charge of the boat, and the blonde was already getting them out of the dock before they even all sat down. Harry went straight to his room, needing to get out of the wet clothes before his adrenaline would calm down and he’d starting feeling the biting cold at its full power.

 

“I bet you’re glad now for Shawn’s packing.” Louis’ voice came from behind him. He didn’t question how he got through the locked door. He was expecting him. He threw the fluffy robe at him. Harry let out a loud laugh. He put it on, and then sat on the bed, knee seconds away from making him pass out. He had no reason to try and hide his pain from Louis.

 

Louis crossed the room and plopped on the bed. He dragged Harry down by the robe hood, forcing him to lay down next to him. Harry obliged, hand automatically circling Louis’ waist.

 

“We did it” he whispered. And out of nowhere, he started crying. His body was shaking violently, shivers making him cry even harder. Louis gently petted his head, shushing him softly. He pulled up the think blanket using his feet, not wanting to let go of Harry even for a second. He wrapped them both under the heavy material, and pressed their bodies together. Harry squashed his face in his neck, sobs muffled by Louis’ shoulder. He didn’t know why he was crying. Everything went well, more or less. They got Barbara, everyone was alive, they were on their way to becoming some of the richest bastards in Ketterdam. He cried as Louis held him, and for the first time in ten years, he allowed all the grief to come out of him.

 

 

 

Their meeting with Wotton was on Viarna Island. Close enough to Ketterdam that you could watch it from the shore. Far enough that private meetings stayed private. Niall was pouting that Shawn has been avoiding him the entire journey home, and Louis was pouting because Zayn was ignoring him in favour of staying with Liam. Harry didn’t know what happened to the other two pairs when they split up, but he had other priorities. He was eager for the day to end, if only for Louis’ sweet promise of meeting him in his bedroom later that night.

 

Wotton smiled upon seeing them. Barbara was behind Kaz and Liam, flanked by Louis and Niall.

 

“I have to confess Mister Brekker, I’m surprised. Delighted, but surprised.”

 

“You didn’t think we’d succeed.”

 

“Let’s say I thought you were a longshot.”

 

“Is this why you placed your bets on multiple teams?”

 

“Ah, so you’ve spoken to Cowell.”

 

“Funny thing to see him in the Fjerdan prison after his gang tried to destroy our ship.”

 

“I hope your feelings are not hurt, it was a safer bet.”

 

“Thirty millions will soothe my feelings, thank you very much.”

 

Two of his hunch men brought down a heavy trunk, opening the lid. Even from the slight distance, Harry could see row after row of stacks of bills, sealed with wax.

 

“I think I’m hard” he heard Niall whisper to Louis.

 

“Well, Wotton. I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but I’m not that good a liar. We’ll take our leave.”

 

Wotton stepped in front of Barbara and said, “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Mister Brekker.”

 

Harry leaned on his cane. “Is there a problem?”

 

“Several. And there’s no way they’re getting off this island.”

 

He snapped his fingers and a few men appeared from behind the trees. They moved their hands in a synchronised way, and the sea level began to rise.

 

“Tidemakers. Fuck.” Niall cursed.

 

 

“The deal is the deal, Wotton,” Harry said trying to keep his composure. “If the Council fails to honour its end of this bargain, no one from the Barrel will ever deal with any of you again. Your word will be meaningless.”

 

“That would be a problem, Mister Brekker, if the Council knew anything about this deal.”

 

Understanding came in a terrible flash. “They were never involved,” Harry said.”

 

Why did he trust Wotton? Because he was rich? Dressed nicely? It was Hertzoon and his toys and pub all over again, only now Harry was old enough to know better

 

“You wanted Barbara for yourself. To give you the formula for the drug, so you could control the market.”

 

“I already acquired a few plantations of poppies. Nothing unusual, good for trading with bakeries and pharmacies.” Wotton’s smirked.

 

“When the Council finds out—” Louis began.

 

“The Council will never hear of this,” Wotton dismissed him. “Why do you think I chose scum from the Barrel as my champions? Oh, you are resourceful and far more clever than any mercenaries, I give you that. But more important, you will not be missed.”

 

Harry felt anger rising inside him. No.

 

“None of you will leave this island Mr Tomlinson. You will vanish, and no one will care.”

 

Harry thought of the Dregs. Of his precious crows. How Taylor was probably in the kitchen, cooking while keeping an eye on the window for Karlie to come back. How she was always giving Louis an extra cup of chocolate when he’s been out all night with a job for Harry. How Bebe was the first to teach Shawn how to draw the cards, so he could join them in the front of the house, instead of hiding in the back. How Kendall and Eleanor went and broke into Cowell’s bar in the Bazaar when one of his lackeys thought he was being smart to steal Harry’s cane and got it back along two of his fingers. How Ed and Steve flat out refused to join any of the jobs, instead they took all the younger kids into the kitchens to train them to serve in the restaurant. How Niall would find odd instruments and bring them back and alongside Troye and Ed, they’d start playing random songs and hymns every night, and the entire Salt would join them. How the Salt would be tense until the teams would come back for the night, and won’t let themselves fully relax until Harry walked through the doors, always the last one to come back. Wotton was wrong. They were the bottom of the food chain for him, but they had a makeshift family waiting for them.

 

A massive wave was hitting towards their ship.

 

“Wotton!” Harry shouted. “Wait! Your son is on that ship!”

 

“My son?”  


“Shawn. Mendes. The name change was a smart idea, but not smart enough.”

 

“Mister Brekker, surely you must know that I sent my son to study in the countryside months ago.”

 

“I know you’ve written to Shawn every week since he left your household, begging him to return. Those are not the actions of a man who doesn’t care for his only son and heir.”

 

Wotton began to laugh, but its edges were jagged and bitter.

 

“Let me tell you about my son.” He spat the word as if it were poison on his lips. “He was meant to be heir to one of the greatest fortunes in all of Ketterdam. But my son, the boy meant to rule this grand empire, cannot do what a child of seven years can. He can solve an equation. He can paint and play the flute most prettily. What my son cannot do, Mister Brekker, is read. He cannot write. I have hired the best tutors from every corner of the world. I’ve tried everything; specialists, tonics, beatings, hypnotism. But he refused to be taught. I finally had to accept that the saints saw fit to curse me with a moron for a child. Shawn is a boy who will never grow to be a man. He is a disgrace to my house.”

 

“The letters …” said Niall, and Harry could see the anger in his face. “You weren’t pleading with him to come back. You were mocking him.”

 

Jesper was right. _If you’re reading this, then you know how much then you know how much I wish to have you home_. Every letter had been a slap in the face to Shawn, a kind of cruel joke.

 

“He’s your son,” Niall whispered.

 

“No, he is a mistake. One soon to be corrected. My lovely wife is carrying a child, and be it boy or girl or creature with horns, that child will be my heir, not some soft-pated idiot who cannot read a hymnal, let alone a ledger, not some fool who would make the Wotton name a joke.”

 

“You’re handling that pretty well on your own.” Louis said.

 

“You’re the moron,” Niall snarled. “He’s smarter than most of us put together, and he deserves a better father than you.”

 

Wotton laughed, but waved his hand. The Tidemakers curshed the boat. Niall screamed and went for his guns.

 

“Niall. No.” Harry warned him.

 

“He killed them, Kaz!” Niall shouted. “He killed Shawn and Zayn!”

 

“Niall. Be still” Liam warned him. Niall looked at him confused.

 

“I must say I’m confused too. No tears for your darling friends?”

 

“No. Because in order to succeed in your plan, you need Barbara Palvin.”

 

Wotton laughed. “You’re outnumbered, with no guns. She’s right here.”

 

“See this is where you’re wrong, Wotton. That’s not Barbara.” Harry smiled.

 

“You’re bluffing”

 

“Not really his style, Wotton.” Louis said.

 

“What’s your style then Mister Brekker?”

 

“He’d rather cheat.” Barbara opened her mouth, but her voice came out as a low rasp. A low male rasp.

 

Wotton startled at the sound of his voice, and Niall flinched.

 

The girl held out a hand. “Pay up, Kaz.”

 

Harry sighed. “I do hate to lose a bet. You see, Wotton, Shawn bet me that you would have no qualms about ending his life. Call me sentimental, but I didn’t believe a father could be so crude.”

 

“No. No” Wotton took a step back.

 

Before they left the ship, he had Zayn tailor Shawn’s appearance. It took all his energy, but the result was an almost exact replica of Barbara. With Shawn’s voice and mannerisms. After Cowell almost got them, Shawn had come to him, red faced and apologetic, to warn Harry about something his father might use against him. Harry shrugged. So what if Shawn couldn’t read? Kid made an acid that could cut through Grisha glass, but leave jewellery intact.

 

“I knew you were a moron, but you’re a traitor too.” Wotton was furious.

 

“So what if the real Barbara was on that ship?” Harry continued undisturbed.

 

“Where is she?!”

 

“Leave us off the island and I’ll tell you. Kill us and you’ll never find her.”

 

Wotton appeared to consider this. Then he stepped back. “Guards to me!” he shouted. “Kill everyone but Brekker!”

 

Harry knew the instant he made his mistake. His eyes should have stayed trained on Wotton. Instead, in that moment of threat, when he should have thought only of the fight, he looked at Louis.

 

And Wotton saw it. He blew on a whistle. “Leave the others! Get the money and the short one.”

 

Harry caught movement from the corner of his eye. A Tidemaker hurtling toward Louis.

 

“Niall!” he shouted.

 

Niall fired, and the man fell down to the earth.

 

The next one was smarter. He came in low. Niall and Liam opened fire, but they had to face the sun to shoot and not even Niall could aim blind. The man barrelled into Louis and used a jet of water to propel upwards with her into the sky.

 

 _Stay still_ , Harry urged her silently, his pistol drawn. But he didn’t. His body spun, and he slashed out. The Tidemaker’s scream was distant. He released him. Louis fell, plunging towards the sand. Harry ran towards him without logic or plan.

 

Another Tidemaker got to him before Harry did. He caught his body right before the impact, but landed a vicious blow to the skull. Harry saw Louis’ body go limp.

 

“Shoot him! He’ll drown!” Liam shouted.

 

“No! Do that and Louis drowns too!”

 

The man dodged up and out of range, Louis clutched in his arms.

 

There was nothing he could do but stand there like a fool and watch his shape get smaller in the sky.

 

“I can still shoot Wotton.” Niall said desperately.

 

If he did that all would be lost. Louis would be lost.

 

“No.” Harry said.

 

“Digging in your bag of tricks, _demjin_?” Liam asked.

 

“I’m gonna invent a new trick, Payne.” Harry said in a low tone.

 

Shawn got to his feet. “Whatever I can help. For the Wraith.”

 

Niall followed “For Louis.” he said quietly. Liam nodded. “For Louis.”

 


End file.
